


Destiny

by Endangered_Slug



Series: September Prompts [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Extended 'verse, F/M, Not a Crossover, Romance! In! Space!, Smuggler!Belle, Woobie! Rum, not a prompt-a-thon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted: Spinner!Rumple and pirate!Belle?</p><p>Well... In my house we're all big, damn Firefly fans. And so this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was beating down Rum's neck in a way that made him sweat at an obscene time in the morning.The port was as crowded and dirty and fetid as he expected, the noises and smells combining into one, big assault on his already overloaded senses. He hoisted his threadbare pack higher up onto his shoulder and headed in, his limp gaining him only a meager amount of space through the crowds. Or maybe it was a healthy respect of the heavy staff he carried for support and, occasionally, defense.

 

There wasn't much choice for him, really. The pleasure ships were out of his budget and the government ships were out of the question, so he turned away from them and headed toward the smaller ships where he might have some luck.

 

None of his inquiries met with much success — his skills were suspect and his noticeable limp was uninspiring to any prospective employer— and he had just about given up for the day. He could find a tarp somewhere to sleep under and try again tomorrow.

 

He was ready to turn back when he heard a chipper voice from his right.

 

"Hey, grandpa!"

 

Rum stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, leaning heavily on his staff. "What?" he asked, offended and tired and wanting to do nothing more than sit and maybe find something to eat if he was lucky.

 

A tall, leggy brunette with blood-red streaks shot through her hair and wearing very little clothing had popped out of a cargo hold in the last ship in the row -a small one, Firefly class. Banged up some but held together for the most part. There was a name painted in curling letters on the hull, but Rum had never learned to read.

 

The woman who hailed him gave him a smile worth at least five credits if he had any, which he didn't. She towered over him.

 

"Are you looking for passage? Because we just happen to have room for one more passenger provided they can pay."

 

"I'm not a grandfather," he said.

 

She shrugged a shapely shoulder. "That's okay, we're not picky. Are you looking to get off this rock?"

 

He nodded. "I am, but I can't pay."

 

The five-credit smile shut off and she blew a chunk of hair out of her face. "The captain's the only one who can decide who works on the boat. Hang on."

 

She disappeared into the hold, shouting out for someone whose name he could quite make out. He didn't have to wait for very long when a woman with a bounty of auburn curls falling over one shoulder and eyes bluer than the oceans of Earth-that-was, or so he'd heard. She was wearing soft, buckskin breeches hugging her tightly around the hips and a leather vest pulled over a rusty colored shirt. There was a gun strapped securely to her thigh and Rum tried not to stare at it as Red pointed her in his direction.

 

The woman came bounding up to him and made no bones about staring him up and down with an inquisitive look on her face.

 

She was shorter than he was, but he still felt insignificant next to her and shuffled his feet uneasily as she looked him over.

 

“Red says you're looking for passage, is that right?”

 

“Yes, Ma'am.”

 

She wrinkled her nose at that and Rum couldn't help but notice that it was a cute nose and that her lips were a lush red — the color of ripe strawberries and probably just as sweet were he ever to get a taste.

 

That was... crazy thinking.

 

“My name's Belle and this is my boat.” She heaved a sigh before checking the position of the sun. “You have any skills that might be useful?”

 

“I'm good with my hands. I can build things. Put them back the way they need be if they're broke."

 

She looked interested in that and held out her hands, palms up. “Let's see those hands,” she said.

 

He balanced on his good foot and rested his staff against his shoulder holding out his hands like a boy awaiting inspection before supper.

 

She peered at them, tracing a finger lightly over some callouses and Rum wondered if she was reading them as he'd heard the witches of old had done once upon a time.

 

"They're good and strong. Calloused but gentle." She stepped back, allowing him to balance once more. "Happened to your leg?" she asked, nodding toward it.

 

He flinched. "OGRe wars," he said, simply. There wasn't much else to tell, really.

 

She made a sympathetic moue. "Well, come on, let's see what you can do."

 

She turned and he followed her, up the ramp and into the cargo bay. "Can you work that staff on our grating?" she asked as she led him further into the ship. “Hate you to get stuck if we're in a hurry.”

 

"It shouldn't be a problem."

 

She led him through a hatch and into a welcoming kitchen area with, of all things, a wooden table worn down to a smooth sheen from years of use and an array of mismatched chairs. "This is the galley. We take our meals communally and everyone gets a turn either cooking or cleaning. Crewmen get their own bunks and a share of the profits. If we have any," she said that with such a lovely smile that it took Rum a moment to realize that she wasn't kidding.

 

They plodded their way forward, past doorways and stairwells leading up and down in crazy patterns, and it was all very confusing to Rum because, though the ship itself was relatively small, he had a poor sense of direction and was immediately lost once they lost sight of the cargo door.

 

“What is it that you do?” he asked timidly.

 

“Uh, a lot of scavenging, sometimes passenger transport, ferrying, that sort of thing. Mostly.”

 

“Mostly?”

 

“Gotta do what we can to stay afloat. We're aren't particular as to what that means.”

 

Rum nodded in understanding. He could respect that. Survival out in the black was a dangerous thing. He looked at the back of Belle's head and the cascade of curls bouncing in front of him. He wondered what drew a woman of her obvious status to living off scraps in the margins of space. She spoke plainly but with an accent only heard within the most influential of families.

 

“Any good in a fire fight?” she asked over her shoulder.

 

A fight? Him? Ha! Never. He was good at cowering, but he didn't expect that information to be endearing to any potential boss.

 

His hesitation must have been answer enough and she just shrugged and continued on towards where ever she was leading him.

 

“That's fine. Not everyone can fight, though it does occasionally come in handy when business turns unfortunate.”

 

“Is it dangerous?”

 

“Sometimes. A lot of times the people I deal with think that because I'm a woman I'm weak and stupid. I assure you that's not the case. They get a might testy when they realize their mistake. Usually it's after they find themselves looking down the wrong end of a gun.”

 

There was nothing he could say to that.

 

She led him down a short set of stairs and through another hatch.

 

"And this is the engine room," Belle said with a flourish. "You know anything about engines?"

 

"A bit. I've tinkered with small vehicles some, nothing like this though." He looked at the accelerator core, now cold and dark but practically humming with potential. His fingers rubbed against themselves wanting to to take it apart.

 

She shrugged and handed him a lump of metal which he instinctively took.

 

"What can you do with this?"

 

He stared at the mass of screwy bits and dangling pieces, trying to figure out what it was when he blinked and all the parts came into focus. "Oh, I see." He looked around for a stool or something to sit on and found an empty crate. Well, he wasn't picky. He hooked it with his staff and pulled it over. "Got any tools?" he asked as he eased himself down, testing the crate's sturdiness against his weight. When it didn't crash into splinters he relaxed a bit. “What's the problem with it?”

 

“Dunno,” she said as she dragged over a large metal chest. “I have Leeroy out looking for parts or a replacement or a mechanic, whichever comes first, but coin is scarce and, well, he's a great merc but a lousy repairman.” She gestured to the chest. “What tools we have are here, plus whatever is left lying around. We all give it a go. Some are better at it than others.”

 

Rum pulled open the drawers to familiarize himself with what was available then selected a small screwdriver and bent over the part. He could feel Belle's presence in the engine room, but once he started concentrating on the task before him, his nervousness soon faded away as his fingers, sure of themselves, began the tricky business of taking apart and putting back together.

 

The afternoon passed quickly with Belle coming in to check on him every once in a while. Sometimes it was the other one, Red, but usually it was Belle. They brought him something to eat, for which he was very grateful. Even if they decided to leave him dirtside, he'd be sustained for another day and that was powerful important when you hovered one meal away from the bone yard.

 

It was just coming on to the twinkling hour of twilight when he'd placed the last screw in and gave it a final turn. He looked over the part in his hands to make sure he hadn't missed anything but he knew without a doubt that he'd fixed it. It was a good job and worth the protein they'd given him for supper if nothing else. He handed it to Belle, who had kept him company for the last forty minutes or so, watching him work.

 

“Well, look at that!” She beamed. Positively glowed with pleasure and he felt proud that he was the one to have caused it.

 

He smiled slightly, relieved to have passed the test. Maybe he'd get off this rock after all.

 

“And you don't know engines?” she asked.

 

“I never apprenticed, but I have a way with machines; it just comes easy to me.”

 

She nodded, looking at him intently. “Well, I have a way with people. I can tell when they're good and when they're not. Like St. Nick,” she said, brightly.

 

“Who?”

 

She chuckled. “Not important. What is important is that I can tell you're not a bad man. You're running, I know that much, but so we all are in our own ways. You do good work and you didn't pinch my bum when I led you into the ship.”

 

He flushed an alarming shade of red.  
  


She grimaced. “You'd be one of the only ones that didn't try it. I'm inclined to think well of you...”

 

“Rum.”

 

“ _Rum_.”

 

She smiled so sweetly that he felt his chest tighten and squeeze in places he hadn't thought of in years.

 

“You got any gear you need to bring aboard?”

 

“Just this.” He gestured to his pack.

 

“Then, Rum, welcome aboard Destiny.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymousnerdgirl prompted: Firefly AU prompt: Belle asks Rum to suit up and assume the false identity Mr. Gold so they can make contact with a client in a fancy venue. Rum wears the proverbial mask of sarcasm and sophistication better than he expected, but things go south when a cocky Alliance official (with a prosthetic hand) challenges him to a duel.
> 
> I've started to integrate a smidge of Chinese into the story. Not a lot because I'm lazy, but a bit. :)

She was staring at him.

She'd been staring all day and he wished she would stop. It was driving him crazy, the staring. The watching. The covert glances and her mouth forming words she didn't seem to know how to utter out loud. It made him itch all over, the weight of her gaze as she waited for him to do _something_. He would do anything she asked of him just so long as she stopped that gorram _staring_.

It was driving him mad. If she wanted him off Destiny all she had to do was say so and he'd be gone the second they hit dirtside on Avonlea.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement as she passed by the common area for the fourth time that afternoon. He'd brought his work up with him and had it spread out on the shipping container that served as a coffee table. He'd had half of a catalyzer put together and was covered in grease up to his elbows. He supposed it was rude of him to take over the common area, though he'd refrained from using their dining table despite it had a bigger work surface. Even he didn't want to taste synthetic oil in his food. Maybe he should have asked permission. Or, better yet, stayed in the engine room where he would be out of sight from those prying, inquisitive blue eyes. They missed nothing he feared. She was as clever as she was beautiful and, in all his travels, he'd never seen anyone her equal, both in looks and in brains. The fairies has been kind to _her_.

She was back in the hatchway and he was just about at the end of his rope. He would space himself if she'd asked so long as she stopped the pacing and the ogling and just spit it out already.

He heard her take a breath.

He waited for her to walk away again.

“I was wondering if you'd do me a favor, Rum.”

Surprised he dropped the spanner, narrowly missing his toes, and looked up. “ _Shi_?”

She was leaning against the bulkhead, her arms crossed over her chest and a sheepish look on her face.

“I've been trying to think of a good way to broach the subject with you,” she admitted, her fancy Core accent that she masked when dealing with Rim world customers showing itself in a tell. She was right nervous.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He bent down to pick the spanner up off the floor and let his hair fall over his face a bit to hide his hurt. He was going to be asked to leave. He knew it was too good to be true. A job, plenty of food, some people to talk to, a _home_ finally. Well, it had been more than two months and he had a bit saved up thanks to a few of their more recent... capers. He would be fine. A bit more lonely than he was before he came aboard Destiny, but fine. Fact is, Belle had saved his life back there on Persephone and he wasn't ungrateful.

Truth is he'd do anything she asked of him.

Belle squeezed her eyes shut, her face adorably scrunched up. “I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for one night,” she blurted out.

Except that.

He stared at her, not even registering that his mouth had dropped open. “Is this a joke?” He could feel the red-hot burn of embarrassment filter over his neck and spread up to his cheeks. Belle had never seemed to sort to be deliberately cruel. He closed his mouth with a clack.

She huffed out a laugh. “No, it's not a joke and it's not funny and I'm sorry to ask it of you. I know it's not in your job description. I hired you as a mechanic not an actor, but I'm a bit desperate.”

“You'd have to be to come to me,” he muttered as he turned the wrench over and over in his hands, examining it in great detail as he tried to suss any possible situation where Belle would be unable to find herself a man worthy of hanging on her arm. None came to mind.

She made a face at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“What did you have in mind?” he countered.

She watched him for a moment, warily. “Um. We have an opportunity to pick up legit work, but the contact man is a bit...”

Coming up with the right word had never been a problem for Belle before so Rum took the opportunity to gather up his tools and roll them up in the oil cloth.

“He has archaic sensibilities,” she finally said with a pleased nod.

The confusion must have shown on his face because she went on. “He thinks that a woman's place is on the arm of a man.”

He was still confused. There were still two other men on board. “What about the shrink? Or Leeroy?” Anyone would have been a better choice than him really.

“Well, Leeroy's not real good for this sort of thing and Archie, well, let's just say he's got the worst poker face I've ever seen.”

That made a might more sense. Last choice was something he could understand. “So I just gotta...”

“You'll negotiate the deal for me—”

At his alarmed look she hurried on. “I'll be right there with you the whole time. I'll coach you on the conditions I'm willing to meet and the payment I require. It'll be easy as pie.” She nudged his knee with hers. “And you'll get off this boat for once. How's your Chinese?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “My Chinese is fine. And I like it here.”

She beamed at him. “And I like having you here. But even you need to see the sun sometime. Just think about it will you?” she said patting his arm not even minding the dirt it was covered in.

The smile nearly blinded him, but it was the touch that did him in. “No,” he said, dazed at the thought of this moonbrained scheme and what he was about to perpetrate.

They might have seen her pout from Misthaven 'cross the other side of this 'verse if they looked. “You won't?”

He shook his head. “No, I mean I don't need to think about it. I'll do it,” he said, stumbling over the words in an effort to wipe her frown off her face.

Before he could react, he was engulfed in her arms, being squeezed out of air as she whispered her thanks in his ear. He didn't care if he had to crawl butt naked over broken glass, he'd do anything short of murder to keep this woman happy. And even then, murder would be negotiable.

She pulled back with an embarrassed smile, but she looked at him as if he was a hero and Rum felt something inside twinge with rare pride.

“Who're we meetin'? Your contact,” he clarified when she didn't answer him.

The look on her face was not reassuring. “My father.”

He dropped the tool kit, this time hitting him square on his toes. “ _Shuh Muh?_ _”_


	3. Chapter 3

Rum sat waiting on a cargo bin by the back hatch. They'd hit atmo on Avonlea and landed at a small, out-of-the-way port in some rich town that was ripe with colors and smells that overwhelmed him. The closest he'd ever come to the central core was Persephone and that was damn near close enough as far as he was concerned. Being on Avonlea made him feel jumpy and itchy and all manner of unpleasantness and he would be well-pleased to get off this fancy rock and into the black just as soon as you please.

Red had gone off on Belle's orders the moment Destiny hit dirt and came back hours later with a crate full of fripperies and to Rum's dismay at least half of the contents were for _him_. Now, a day later, he was primped up like a gorram _m_ _a tze_ in a stiff jacket with a too high collar and too long sleeves and too tight pants and more frills than he had any right to and he felt more like a dressed up doll than a man. He pulled at his neck cloth uncomfortably, trying not to disturb the intricate knot Belle insisted was fashionable on her home planet.

The cane was nice though, he thought, looking down at it with some satisfaction. It was a fancy exotic wood, probably with a name he couldn't pronounce even if he knew what it was, and topped with a golden handle that looked real enough to him. He tapped it on the grating having already practiced walking with it from the engine room, to the cargo bay, up the stairs to the infirmary, to the engine room, back to the cargo bay as much to break in his fancy new boots as well as to make sure he could actually walk without tripping. He liked the cane. Planned on keeping it assuming he made it out alive.

Belle told him her father's home (Not _her_ home though. _Her_ home was Destiny and it always will be.) was in a larger city to the north of where they landed. Shiny, clean, and smart, it was a seat of learning for the 'verse. Anyone could go to school provided they have the credits, and in some cases, the pedigree, but on Avonlea knowledge practically dropped off the trees like apples ripe for the picking.

Rum wondered if his life might have been different if he'd been able to make his way here and gotten an education. He had no idea what that meant exactly. He knew his sums, which is all he needed so's he'd know if he owed someone or if someone owed him. He could work his name in English _and_ Chinese, not that he ever needed to sign anything seeing as how he owned nothing.

He knew, without much pondering on the subject, that Belle came from Family with a capital F. She had manners and charm and knew which fork to use, or he assumed she did seeing as how Destiny only boasted enough cutlery to go around. But if they had meals with courses, he would bet his share of the next payout that she could tell her shrimp fork from her elbow. Belle was quality people and what she was doing tumbling about on the Rim, flying a barely functioning boat amongst the riffraff and Feds and OGRes he couldn't suss out.

She was searching for something that much was certain. What it was he wasn't privileged to know, but he knew enough about people to know when they were looking and when they were running and Belle was looking. Maybe one day she'd tell him. Maybe one day he'd get enough guts to ask.

While he was waiting and wondering when Belle would show up already, Rum went over the details of the deal in his head. They spent days memorizing the particulars until Belle was happy with his aptitude and Rum felt confident enough not to screw it all up.

That confidence was slipping with every minute he waited, feeling sick at the thought of the deal going south and not knowing exactly what he was supposed to do. Belle told him to follow her lead, but that only went so far. What if they got separated? What should he do if her father acted different than Belle planned? What if—

He was interrupted from his spiraling thoughts by the sound of clicking heels on the grating and he looked up from his boots and stared.

Belle floated down from the galley way, her dress billowing out behind her like a golden cloud. Her arms were bare and the dress, while held up on her shoulders in gathers of material, dipped down in what should have been an indecent amount but enticed more than it displayed, as well as the hidden slits that showed her legs with every step she took. Her hair was let down and it curled around her shoulders, bouncing with every step, springy and soft and bringing out the blue in her eyes in a manner in which poets wrote about.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat roughly, looking away so as to gather his thoughts, but when he looked back Belle was standing directly in front of him, her spicy perfume enveloping him and fogging up his brain.

“ _Wo de tian a,_ ” he breathed, wincing when he realized he spoke out loud.

She beamed at him as if his compliment actually pleased her and his too-tight pants became constricting in ways that threatened his sanity and future begetting, should such a momentous occasion ever arise.

“You look _shwai_ yourself, Rum,” she said, running her eyes up and down in a way that made his insides flip. She handed him a small wooden box. “This is for you.”

He looked down at it, blankly. Then, taking it from her fingers, glanced at her before finding the hidden clasp and opening it up. The scent of sandalwood wafted out from the velvet interior, but what he noticed was the winking jewel set in burnished gold that shone in the flickering light of Destiny's hold.

“What?” he began but, looking up, he forgot how to speak again at her earnest expression.

“You're a wealthy man, you need to look the part,” she explained, taking his hand in hers and placing the ring upon his finger as if it had any right to be there.

“Are you—Are you sure? I mean, I may lose it,” he said, feeling the underside of the band with the pad of his thumb, rubbing and rubbing the metal as if it might unleash a genie. The stone was almost the same pale blue as her eyes, he noticed absently. Large and heavy, it would fetch a pretty penny at the if he decided to rabbit away with it. “'It's uh... it's shiny.”

She smiled uncertainly. “I had it cleaned.”

He shook his head. “I mean...” he began looking at his rough and calloused hands and the pale blue stone sitting on it. Anyone with eyes in their head would get one look at them and know he wasn't a person in any position to bargain a deal. Workman's hands. Unworthy-like. Ridiculous to think a piece of pretty like Belle would ever let him touch her let alone... He gripped the cane tight, squeezing until he felt the bite of metal in his palm. “I'll keep it safe,” he said.

“It's just a ring,” she replied with a shrug. “No one will chase you down over that bit of tin.”

“Not like I can run far,” he said gesturing to his leg with the cane, hesitant to even draw attention to it.

“You won't have cause to. I promise.” She turned her head, her neck a long line of white flesh that she'd dusted with the faintest trace of glittery powder. It looked like the stars shone on her bright and powerful and if the intent of it was to lure unsuspecting menfolk into her orbit then the ploy worked.

Not that Rum would ever admit it in a thousand years. The OGRes themselves wouldn't be able to rip that secret from his lips.

She took a deep breath and Rum very carefully kept his eyes off her chest. Well, maybe he peeked a bit. Nothing too overt – just enough to make his pants particularly strained.

“Do you remember who you are?” she asked, brushing the skirt of her gown in an attempt to keep things neat.

This was it. He could back out or he could keep his promise – either way, he was sure Belle would understand. He'd been rehearsing in his bunk, away from the prying eyes and pert remarks of the crew. It took an effort to get in and out of his berth, the ladder was especially hard on his ankle, but he'd be a _ta ma de hun_ _dan_ if anyone saw him practicing. He's watched himself in the mirror until his eyes crossed, but he was determined on doing Belle proud.

Rum gave her a half-smile, feeling the persona take over, his eyes roaming from the toes peaking out from the hem of her dress, up over the twist of fabric at her waist, the swell of her breasts and the drop of gold that rested there, all the way to the top of her head where a spray of gold glinted at him from behind a delicate ear.

“Of course, Dearie,” he said, with a flip of his head and flourish of his now bejeweled hand. “I'm Mr. Gold.”

 

* A not nice way of saying female companion

* Dear god in heaven

* Mother-humping son of a bitch

**Author's Note:**

> No, not *that* Destiny, but when thinking of a name for Belle's ship, I latched onto it because, after all, she's in charge of her own. It seemed fitting. 
> 
> I am actively taking prompts for this 'verse. I've gotten several very good ones so far and I like the idea of merging the two shows together a bit. I'm not following Firefly faithfully, shoehorning the Once characters into their plot because I don't want to do that. Think of it as more of an Extended Universe with Rum and Belle and the rest flying the same skies as Mal and his crew.
> 
>  
> 
> I also want to thank anonymous for the prompt because I had such fun writing this.


End file.
